


nightshade

by Finaiarel



Series: Roleplay Drabbles [4]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Assassination, M/M, Major Character Injury, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 19:21:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finaiarel/pseuds/Finaiarel
Summary: Prompt: “❛ I will find you in the next world - the next life. And we will have that time. ❜” Takes place in our main verse.





	nightshade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aleois](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleois/gifts).



> From a collection of sentence starters from Sarah J. Maas's _A Court of Thorns and Roses, _found[here](http://du3list.tumblr.com/post/177576981739/sarah-j-masss-book-prompts).__

There is a fire in Heba’s veins that he cannot put out. Like most flames, it burns. It started in his stomach, a tingling sensation like loving fingers dancing across his skin, but inside him. And within seconds that had turned into a sharp, tearing pain that had him gasping, stars dancing behind his lids as the poison began to eat its way through his system. 

It comes in waves. The pain ebbs and flows, overwhelms and then recedes. It sets his every nerve ending aflame and then leaves nothing but numbness, and the dread of the next wave. 

A single, steady point of relief exists through the pain. Arms, strong and cool around him. A voice more familiar even than his own, commanding one second and falling apart the next. His skin is burning, his insides are burning, but his king’s presence is like cool water to help soothe the pain. He screams himself hoarse during the waves of pain, and when they are over and he can no longer find his voice, no longer string together a full thought, there is still the voice of his king, his lover, his soulmate. It grounds him, gives him a single point of normalcy to help him survive the agony.

Eventually, they tip a goblet to his lips and he drinks, the liquid cool and viscous as it slides down his throat. Where it touches, the burn fades to numbness once more, and in a few moments he can breathe again. Swollen, bloodshot violet eyes flutter open and at first, everything is a blur. He does not remember leaving the Great Hall, but now they are in his lover’s chambers and there are cool silks beneath him, above him. 

Atem comes into focus, and he cannot look much better than Heba himself. His face is tear-stained, his clothing rumpled and torn in places. Kohl has run in streaks down his lovely cheeks, and when Heba reaches up to wipe it away he finds he can hardly lift his arms at all. His limbs feel… far away, like they have been disconnected from his body. All the same he tries, and Atem’s hand soon catches his own and squeezes it gently, tangling his fingers with Heba’s own.

“Don’t, _nedjeb._ Save your strength,“ he murmurs, his voice small in the space of his chambers. Heba wonders, for a moment, where the other voices he had heard earlier have gone, but the thought is there and gone in moments as he smiles weakly up at his lover and tries to give a squeeze of his own in return. His fingers do not move, and his brows furrow in confusion.

_‘Why won’t they move?‘_

A small sob slips from the king’s lips and chases that thought from Heba’s mind. He focuses on the man above him, on the tremble in his lips and the tension in his jaw. His eyes drift shut a moment and for a brief second a vision of his lover as he was appears in his mind: radiant, beautiful, and happy. Surrounded by light. His eyes drift open and there he is again, but the despair is thick around his king, an aura of darkness that Heba can see if he squints his eyes.

And with a jolt, the little consort realizes why. He is dying.

Lips move to form words, reassurances that won’t come, and he chokes on them, coughing on the words he needs to say and cannot. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Tears drip down long lashes as he still tries to force the words to come, desperate to reassure his lover, to take away some of the pain. But as usual it is Atem who must care for him, Atem who sweeps in and kisses him, muffles his cries with his lips and holds him so close Heba thinks he might simply fade into his chest and forget any of this had ever happened. Everything would be okay then. They could remain together always.

But it is not to be so.

Atem holds him close for a long, long time. Heba takes the chance to soak him in, to memorize what it feels like to be held by him, imprints the feelings of his arms around him on his very soul. But when he finally breaks away he eases Heba down into the silks. They are cool on his skin, soothing some of the fire that still burns, burns, burns beneath his skin. Violet eyes close and remain shut for a long while, drifting in and out for what could be seconds or hours.

At last a weight settles beside him on the bed, and when he forces his eyes open there is his lover once again. There is a sacrificial blade in his hand, glinting dark in the candlelight, the golden handle’s engravings catching the light. And despite the fog clouding his mind, understanding dawns on him, and in a moment of clarity he looks up at his lover and he nods. His eyes are set, determined as they look on Atem, and there are a million things he would like to say. His voice will only allow him one.

“I wish we had more time,“ he whispers, eyes filling with tears. “I… I wanted to be by your side forever.“

“I know,“ his lover whispers in return, voice rough, and quiet, and hollow. “I know. And someday you will be. Because you are mine. I will find you, Heba. I will find you in the next world - the next life. And we will have that time,“ he promises.

Heba smiles, and closes his eyes.

And then Atem lifts the dagger, and stabs him in the heart.


End file.
